


Nyon's Cinders

by Catminty



Series: Pleasure Is Best Served Forced [6]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, One-Sided Relationship, Trolling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love is unique; it takes many different shapes and forms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a side story that goes with Withdrawal Symptoms. It's based off events that happen after chapter 8, so there may be a few minor spoilers. 
> 
> I just felt that there wasn't enough Vos torture out there. And Helex needs love. Small chapters, hurray!

Somehow, he didn't think green was color it was supposed to be. Vos muttered to himself as he turned his datapad left, upside down, then finally settling it on its right side. Did he add something out of order? The seeker leaned down, optics at tabletop-level, and peered frustratedly at the green-tinted energon. It was _supposed_ to be bronze in color with flakes of oxidized copper floating about. But _no_ , it just refused to cooperate!

Vos mumbled to himself as he slid the subpar concoction to the side with the other two failed mixes. The fourth attempt was also less than satisfactory. Purple bubbles? Interesting. He made a note about the influence of salicylic acid on iron for future experimentation. 

It was on the fifteenth attempt that Vos sent a desperate ping to Helex explaining his results. The slagpot laughed heartlessly over the comms, ::Did you let it cool before adding the flakes?::

::Yes, of course I did!:: Vos huffed, glaring balefully at his first failure. ::But the flakes didn't sink!::

::How long did you wait?::

::Until it was cool.:: The seeker's armor flared at the chuckle his frustration earned. 

::You have to mix in the flakes when the mixture is cool enough that they don't melt, but not before it gels completely.:: Sounds of clinking and clattering filled the background of Helex's end of the comm. ::Keep trying.::

::But how do I--:: The comm clicked off on the slagpot's end; Vos clenched his servos. First, that slagger wouldn't share any of the energon treats he made. _Then_ he dangled an incomplete recipe for one of Vos' favorites in his faceplate, knowing it took exact timing to make it turn out just right. 

The thirty-fifth concoction somehow went from a liquid straight into a rock-hard solid without any sort of "gel" phase. Vos cradled his helm and keened. 

That fragger took joy in torturing him.


	2. Chapter 2

It was late into the night shift when Helex managed to get back to his quarters. What with that sparkeater getting loose and deciding those little Cassettes would be tasty morsels, things had been quite hectic. It had taken Kaon's insistent protests to stop Tarn from ripping the turbofox to pieces. 

A brush, cloth, and cube of solution were pulled from a small closet recessed in the wall. Helex daintily dabbed the end of the cloth into the cleaning solution then ran slow, even stokes across every available surface. He let his processor wander over the orn's events. The experience was difficult on the carrier. In spite of his screamed threats and outward hostility, he shook in terror until each and every one of his creations was found.

Care was given in scrubbing each and every surface until the metal was glossy to the touch. The large mech settled on his servos and peds and proceeded to scrub the floors to the same effect. It was astounding how open Tarn was during the events. How he openly charged in to save the creations that were not his own, the creations of his creation's carrier. Did he do it for the sparkling? Did he do it because he...loved the carrier?

Diligent scrubbing came to a staggered halt. Helex solemnly wondered what it was like to have someone to care for. He exvented heavily, running an absent servo over his spark chamber. 

Once the room was spotless, Helex cleaned his own frame. Ducking to avoid hitting his helm, Helex entered his berthroom silently and leaned against the door after it hissed shut. What would it be like to have a family? 

Shaking his helm tiredly, Helex trudged over to his berth for some well-deserved recharge. The slagpot smirked at the number of messages collecting in his inbox. He would get to the the next orn. Or maybe in ten orns. 

At least he had Vos to annoy.


	3. Chapter 3

For orns Vos tried and failed to create the legendary "Nyon's Cinders" concoction Helex invented. The design was a witty rendition of the burning of Nyon in the early orns of the war. The city glowed so lovely as countless sparks extinguished. It was pretty as a picture, and Vos still had some wonderful captures of those flames. 

It was on the eighty-sixth attempt that he got the recipe to work. The seeker actually ran circles around the table in glee when the energon stayed golden-orange and the emerald-tinted copper flakes stayed suspended in the mixture. It was beautiful, marvelous!

Only, it wasn't. It tasted horrible. Nothing at all like the drink he so adored. In a frantic state, Vos tore to Helex's quarters to beg for the answer. He pounded his small fists on the door, rousing a sleepy Helex from recharge. 

"You didn't use plain energon, did you?" Helex asked groggily. At Vos' blank nod, the fragger grew smug. "Of course it would taste foul. The drink requires a special energon recipe."

The seeker's optics paled pitifully. He paid a wing and a thruster only to learn how to prepare the drink? How could he--How could he have been scammed like that?! Vos shuttered his optics and rubbed his aching helm. It was a hopeless attempt, but he had to try. "What is the recipe?"

Helex chuckled. "I only sold you the instructions on how to serve the energon, not how to brew it."

Vos was then shooed out of the slagpot's spotless berthroom. Alone. Without his beloved Nyon's Cinders. 

He broke down in the hallway and sincerely wept. 


	4. Chapter 4

The dungeon was so cliche. Shackles lined the walls of each dark, cramped, damp cell. Golden servos dangled from the bindings; a golden helm adorned with black fins rested tiredly against the wall. 

Sunstreaker was tired--not just tired; exhausted. He didn't mind the filth that ground between his seams as he adjusted to try and find a comfortable position. The snotty mech didn't even care about the countless scratches and dings in his plating.  A mech tended to get that way after, say, half a dozen beatings.

Lazy blue optics scanned the barren cells around him. It looked like he was the only Autobot caught in that raid, though the events on the Lost Light were blurry at best. All he remembered were explosions, lots and lots of explosions. It was unlikely that the ship had even survived the fight. 

The door to the prison creaked open forebodingly. Two medium sized mechs slunk in through the dark. Odd. The only features visible were two uniquely-shaped silhouettes and a single pair of burning optics. What was with the other mech? They stopped in front of Sunstreaker's cell to stare at him like the Decepticreeps they were. 

A dim cast of light shone on their faceplates. Oh, the DJD. That would explain the black optics on the one. The seeker eyed him hungrily, making Sunstreaker's derma curl in disgust. 

"'The frag are you staring at you gangly glitch?" Sunstreaker rasped. Interestingly enough, the electric chair seemed to find his comment the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard. The red mech actually stumbled to the side, servo cradling his gut, as he silently laughed his aft off. Sunstreaker smirked in triumph at the seeker's flare of indignation. 

The pair exchanged a flurry of conversation full of hand displays. Purple servos flailed wildly while black servos cupped an elbow and cradled a red helm in contemplation. What was the red one's designation? Cannon? That mech had some wild facial expressions.

Sunstreaker settled back to watch the show. It was like watching a human soap opera on mute. 

"Oh, alright!" the seeker--Boss?--snapped sharply. 

Boss stomped off to the door they entered from and Cannon swayed his way to the exit at a casual pace. Cannon turned to Sunstreaker, sightless optics staring at him with freakish accuracy, and gave him a saucy wink. Disturbed, Sunstreaker reset his optics and stared incredulously at the retreating form.

He really hoped he'd be traded or rescued before those freaks came back.


	5. Chapter 5

This had to work. It just had to! He negotiated with Kaon for some information (blackmail), found the perfect item to attract the slagpot's optic (bait), and set up a meeting to discuss trading opportunities in a way that Helex could not refuse (trap).

It took a crown's worth of credits to obtain the item, as well as a suspicious IOU to Kaon for also locating said item, but it was perfect. The quality, the condition, everything. All he had to do was prepare his quarters, set up the meeting, and ready his fuel tanks for an influx of deliciousness. 

One way or another, Vos would get that recipe! 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters uploaded in a row. Check out the last mini-chapter for a bit of Vos-plotting.
> 
> I'm sick. If I have to suffer, Vos has to suffer. :c

Helex was usually a punctual mech. Very punctual. As in, right-down-to-the-exact-astrosecond punctual. But there was just something delightful about being late to his "meeting" with Vos. 

The hulking slagpot stood, shadowed, in a hallway a few doors down. Utterly amused, he watched as the door to Vos' quarters hiss open and a small, purple helm jerk out to scan the hallways. Finding no one, the seeker jerked his helm back inside and closed the door. A breem later the process began again, only this time Helex saw twitchy shoulders jerk out as well. Within ten breems Vos was pacing the corridors in his impatience. Choice glyphs were muttered under as he unknowingly passed Helex's position. 

"What was that about pouring a bucket of sludge down my vents?" the slagpot rumbled darkly just as Vos passed. He took sinister glee at the seeker's frightful jolt.

"Helex!" Vos turned, presenting a sanguine field ripple in greeting. Because, well, he didn't exactly have a face. It would have been odd if it weren't for the fact that two mechs on their team wore entire facial masks and a third was blind. Field expressionism was sort of a common practice for them. 

The seeker clasped his servos together and leaned forward in a pathetic attempt at friendliness. "It's so good to see you! Where have you been, my friend? It seems like solar cycles since we've seen one another!" A petite purple servo gently cupped the "small" of Helex's back to usher him forward. The false field-play only increased as they drew closer to Vos' quarters. 

It was like being cornered by a salesmech at an expensive bodyshop, the ones that reek of cheap wares and possessed a predatory optic ready to rip off any unsuspecting mech. 

Helex huffed an exvent of a very put upon mech. "You bothered me two orns ago. Are your memory chips corrupting again?" Proud purple wings shook in barely restrained offense. This was going to be fun.

"Of course not!" Vos forced a laugh. "I just missed my dearest friend, that's all!" He guided Helex inside, nudging him as the slagpot had to duck his helm to get through the doorway. 

The room was dark, quiet in a foreboding way. Helex took a step forward and cringed when his ped flattened something small and crunchy. Lights flickered on sluggishly in obvious need of repair. Helex wished they had just stayed off. The room was filthy. Filthy. Disgustingly, horrifically, completely, indubitably filthy! There were containers of minerals strewn haphazardly across tables, some open like a pleasurebot with its valve exposed and copious amounts of "raw material" slopping out, some respectively sealed shut. A few wayward packets fell to the floor and seeming exploded on impact. That left streaks of silver, bronze, and a catastrophe of other colors painting the normally grey floor into a lude rendition of floor space. The random splatters of energon that congealed to form a lumpy, slimy mess among the muck was disturbing on levels the slagpot didn't even know was possible. 

He couldn't stop the shiver of disgust that wracked his frame. That was even putting aside the atrocious pyramid of failed energon concoctions in the corner and the messy stacks of tools and equipment on the tables. Helex's OCD programming screeched in outrage of the offense. 

"Please, sit," Vos coaxed him forward to the seating area. 

Helex reached down and gingerly tried to lift a datapad that rested on the only seat big enough to sustain his weight. Keyword: Tried. It resisted removal with prejudice. Pull came to tug, and it eventually loosened enough to pull free, stringy energon trails of stickiness and all. Red optics paled as a queasy faintness rushed his frame.  

This was a ploy. Obviously. Though it was quite successful in making him squirm. The seeker only seemed gleeful of the fact. Helex huffed, "I'll stand."

"Oh?" Vos blinked his optics in the picture of innocence. "Suit yourself." The seeker plopped down in the mess covering the other chair, creating a squelching sound so disgusting that Helex worried he might purge. Vos had the audacity to lean back comfortably with his servos behind his helm and wiggle his aft in the mess as if to prove some point. The slagpot glared murderously at his comrade. 

They stared each other down, neither wanting to give the other the pleasure of breaking under pressure. A breem passed with both mechs still as stone. Bubbling, slurping noises in the background made Helex's frame twitch sporadically. Each jolt of disgust and the ever-growing sneer on his faceplates made Vos all the more cocky in his relaxed slouch. 

A ping sounded from the door; Helex took the opportunity to break the staring contest. The seeker jumped up from his chair and pranced over the wreckage littering the floor. "Oh! Well, I didn't expect this to arrive so soon," Vos trilled in a sweet-as-cosmic-rust tone. He flounced away from the open door to let the mechs bring in their delivery. 

It was a mech. An Autobot judging by his insignia. He was dragged in by two guards pulling his shoulders. Random sparks danced across the dented, damaged frame of the barely conscious mech. 

"Just leave him by the door," Vos instructed. "It's not like he'll be running away or anything. Not without that leg." 

The mech was gimped? Helex couldn't resist examining him further. He was big compared to most mechs, probably taller than Vos by a helm; but he was small when compared to Helex's own frame. His slagpot would probably bump the yellow mech's nasal plating if they stood face-to-face. Thinking of faces, the little Autobot was a mech above the rest. His shapely little faceplate pulled into the most defined, beautiful little sneer even in his sorry state. Helex just wanted to tug on those helm fins to see if it would piss him off even more.

Vos turned to Helex with an air of superiority. "Now then. Let's talk business!"

"Business?" Helex folded his smaller arms in front of his chassis. "I thought you just wanted to see an old friend."

Dark wings twitching was the only tell for the slight annoyance. But Vos was naturally persuasive. Given the right opportunity, the seeker could sell you the plating on your back and make you think you got a good deal. Lets just say Vos and Swindle were not on the best of terms for one sale or another. 

Vos leaned forward in a friendly, relaxed pose. "Why, I just thought you might be interested in a trading opportunity. I have this shiny--well, once shiny--mech that cleans up quite nicely." Red optics dimmed to a darkened hue, alluding to much. "I've also heard he's quite the berthwarm-AGH!"

Down on the floor, the pretty little Autobot had apparently had enough of being treated like an item. He wrapped his chained servos around a thruster and sunk his denta in the tender plating just above it. Helex grinned unashamedly and watched as Vos shook his ped in a frenzy to try and dislodge the yellow fiend. 

"Let go! Let go, you glitch!" The seeker jerked his ped into the air to pull it away from the mech. Which was a horrible idea considering how standing on one thruster with his weight off-balance put him at such a disadvantage with just one good, strong tug from below. 

Stupid aerials not knowing how to fight like a mech. 

Startled, Vos screeched as he fell awkwardly on his aft. The Autobot launched himself upright, clasped his chained servos together, and rained down a hail of hate with each downward swing of his entwined fists. The chain whipping across Vos' quickly-denting chassis was a pleasant added effect. 

"Don't just--" Vos scrambled to  dislodge himself by kicking and punching. It was kind if similar to a trapped mechanimal, only more pathetic. "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

Helex shifted on his peds to a relaxed stance. He absently fished around in his subspace for a datapad "You've got this one."

Furious, the seeker gouged his talons into the arms beating his chassis inwards and held on as hard as he could. Of course, this form of retaliation was not the best idea either considering the fact that holding on to the much stronger mech's moving fists meant that Vos' backplates--hence, wings--took the brunt of the downward blows. What would hurt more, a fist hitting your chassis or your wings being banged against the ground? Hmm...

If the Autobot hadn't been beat to slag, he probably would've been able to snuff the seeker. As it was, he exhausted quickly with the added weight on his arms. The autobot collapsed over the struggling seeker. Hard pants heaved the sunshiny yellow plating up and down, and fierce, cobalt optics glared daggers up at the other Decepticon in the room. He must have thought Helex was just waiting to beat him for assaulting his ally. The Autobot's optics narrowed suspiciously when Helex turned around the datapad he had been writing on. 

Large servos pinched the small datapad between foredigits, a dull look plastered itself across Helex's face, and his small servos gave a slow, steady clap. On the datapad there was a large seven printed. "While it was well-executed, the overall performance was subpar at best," Helex droned drolly. It was a struggle to keep the smirk off his face the way Vos' dented helm shot up in shock. "There should have been more stage work; More imagination." The Autobot stared at him as if he'd gone mad. "Frankly, I'm unimpressed. There isn't anything unique about landing a seeker on his back." Helex paused dramatically, allowing a palpable swell of indignation to accumulate in Vos' field. "They spend most of their time on it anyway."

Oh, that silent rage, that fury. This was what Helex lived for. It was made all the better by the yellow mech's single snort of a laugh. 

Enraged, Vos clawed at the Autobot laying sideways across his chassis. It was pretty ineffective against the toughened backplating pinning him down. The yellow mech stared up at Helex with an amused half-smirk twisting his derma. 

"I'll tell you what," Helex said. "How about I take this Autobot off your servos? He's far too big for a little seeker like you." The Autobot's face screwed into a scowl. Vos sputtered in rage until Helex said the magic glyphs: "I'll give you The Recipe."

"T-The recipe?" Vos started shaking as the overwhelming rage transformed itself into sheer excitement in a matter of astroseconds.

"You do seem pretty desperate for it," Helex grinned, pulling the struggling Autobot from his teammate. "Deal?"

"Deal!" Vos looked so happy, so incredibly happy. 

The slagpot wrote down the recipe--because making Vos translate his sloppy glyphs was half the fun--and left with his one-legged prize. He looked forward to getting the pretty little mech back to his quarters.


	8. Chapter 8

The recipe. THE recipe!!

Suddenly, it didn't matter anymore how he was covered in grime and dents and Primus knew what else--he didn't know what half of the mess was, he just paid off a worker Vehicon to make it disgusting.

All that mattered was that The Recipe was finally in his servos. Vos actually "kissed" the datapad with the recipe, then proceeded to have a panic attack when he realized the draw mode was still enabled.

Five breems later, he manages to undo the smudge on the screen created by his exuberance. The seeker set to work gathering the materials for the concoction. 

~-~-~

Trudging in the third crate of raw materials, Vos plopped his load down on an available surface. Eight cubes of platinum dust and a cube and a half of gold flakes were expensive. But the recipe said it was needed...

The rest of the ingredients were imported from organic planets. "Borax"? "Vinegar"? The ingredients were so odd. Perhaps that was why Helex never worried about someone else copying his recipe. The seeker measured out the designated quantities into separate cubes. 

"Hmm..." Vos fingered a dent on his cheek in thought. Resting on his spread knees, he picked up the datapad and read aloud, "'Combine the ingredients in large cube.'" The seeker dumped each small cube into the single large cube of hydrogenated oxygen. The mixture churned angrily; Vos held his ventilation, waiting for the transformation. 

Nothing happened. He scratched his helm in worry and tentatively commed Helex.

::Are your memory chips malfunctioning again?:: the slagpot quipped over the comm. ::I was just there--::

::I know that!:: Vos snapped. ::It's not working!::

That fragger was grinning. He knew it. ::Did you add the metals?::

Metals? The seeker blinked, noticing the cubes he had forgotten before. ::No no, of course not.:: He was in such a haste to mix in the forgotten cubes that he accidentally dropped the empty container in as well. A tense klik passed without any reaction. ::It's not doing anything!::

::Of course not,:: Helex snorted. ::Now dip in the brush--you _did_  get a brush, right?::

::Yes!:: Vos dove to the side, grabbed the bristled brush, and held it triumphantly in the air.

Why was Helex being so patient? ::Dip the brush in the mixture. Make sure it gets nice and wet.:: Vos followed along with the instructions. ::Now, pull it out, put it on the floor, and scrub.::

Vos blinked his optics as his servo mindlessly followed the directions. ::How hard?::

::Hard enough that the disaster of a floor gets cleaned.:: A clatter in the background seemed muffled, distant to Vos' audios for some reason. ::I need to get going. My little ray of sunshine needs me.:: With that, the line went dead.

The room was oddly cold. Every line of Vos' frame went numb aside from the single servo still scrubbing the floor. He stared distantly at the limb as if it was a stranger's servo that betrayed him rather than his own.

Helex tricked him. Again. This wasn't the formula for the energon; it was a formula for cleanser. An organic cleanser that he spent the last of his credits on.

Distantly, the seeker leaned down and continued scrubbing. It was fine. Everything was fine. He'd just have his mental breakdown after the floors were clean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why the platinum and gold? It makes the floor shiny!
> 
> You didn't really think I'd let Vos get the recipe this early, did you? Pfft.


End file.
